


By the Light

by Lunari



Category: Overwatch (Video Game), World of Warcraft
Genre: Angst, F/F, Pharmercy, Pharmercy Week 2018, Soldier leaving for war, WOW crossover, WoW lore not needed, pharamedic, rocket angel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-07-01 14:04:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15775590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunari/pseuds/Lunari
Summary: Fareeha Amari is a proud paladin of the Order of the Silver Hand, famed for her bravery and desire to bring justice to those that have been wronged.And when the King issues a call to arms to lay siege to the ruins of Lordaeron, she's ready to step forward.(Knowledge of WoW lore not needed)





	By the Light

**Author's Note:**

> While this is a World of Warcraft crossover, knowing the lore isn't necessary. It's written vaguely enough that it should read as a basic fantasy to anyone that hasn't been soul-sucked by the MMO.
> 
> Brief primer of the lore: 
> 
> The Alliance and Horde have fought for years, though sometimes they have teamed up to bring down greater evils. But now, growing hostility and a morally bankrupt Warchief of the Horde have lead to all out war between the factions.
> 
> Bit of ambience: https://youtu.be/AKOTzyuxPmU

Soft leather soles scuffed along the worn cobblestone of Stormwind’s trade district as Angela sprinted along the alleyway, fear and panic gripping her chest. She’d been at the apothecary, helping to restock their supply of potions for the next shipment to the victims at Teldrassil when she’d heard two passersby gossiping. 

 

The young King was leading a siege on the ruined carapace of Lordaeron in retaliation of the Burning and to fulfill the promise the late King Wrynn had made to the Horde leaders years ago.

 

_ If your Horde fails to uphold honor, we will end you. _

 

Angela cursed the word, scowling as she twisted her body to avoid an elderly woman pushing a floral cart.  _ What does the Horde know of honor? _ There were few in this twisted world that still knew the meaning of the word and as far as Angela was concerned, she could count them on one hand. As she entered Cathedral Square she slowed, her eyes tracing over the gilded marble of the Cathedral of Light. 

 

No doubt the one person that embodied honor more than any other was inside, praying to the Light for strength before her departure to the gates of Lordaeron. Angela slowed her pace even more as she climbed the stairs, nodding to the paladins that stood guard along the massive steps. She smiled and thanked a pair of guards as they pushed open the heavy wooden doors.

 

Angela never could stop the chills that spread along her arms whenever she saw the cathedral in the early morning sun, the light streaming through the stained glass, sending rainbows dancing over the worshippers as they prayed. And kneeling at the altar, as Angela had expected, was Fareeha. Her armor, though scratched and scorched from her efforts to defend Teldrassil, reflected the prismatic sunlight. Angela’s brows knit as worry weaved its way into her heart once more. She took a steadying breath before walking up behind the praying soldier of Light.

 

Angela stood quietly behind the woman, sending her own prayers to any deity that would listen as Fareeha prayed, her native words softly spoken. The blonde was pulled from her own communal by a quiet sob from the paladin kneeling before her and before she could stop herself, Angela placed a gentle hand on the back of Fareeha’s neck, the only bit of skin left exposed by her blue and gold plate armor.

 

Fareeha tensed briefly before relaxing as if she could sense just who was at her back. Perhaps with the amount of travels the two had gone on together, she  _ could _ tell it was the priestess. After a final request for protection, Fareeha stood, scooping up her helmet as she rose. She remained unmoving, her back still toward the blonde healer, for a moment more as she drew upon any sort of calm the Light could offer her. With a sigh, she turned and smiled at Angela before leading the pair down the aisle and out into the sunlight.

 

They walked side by side, a slow stroll along the waterways, in silence. Fareeha could see that Angela was stressed, worrying over the war that just a week prior was something their King assured them would be handled by now.

 

And now, the Alliance rallied to fight on the largest front they’d mustered since the first Horde invasion. Champions fresh from the fight against the Legion, Sentinels that had escaped the burning of Teldrassil by stations elsewhere or by sheer luck, her own Order of the Silver Hand leaving their post in the Eastern Plaguelands, all preparing for battle. 

 

“When do you leave?” The question was quiet, barely heard over the din of the distant trade district.

 

Fareeha sighed and slowed, easing herself onto a nearby bench. She reached out a hand and grasped Angela’s, tugging the blonde toward the seat. Fareeha kept hold of Angela’s fingers, playing absently with the pale digits as she looked out over the memorial for King Varian Wrynn. 

 

“The ships will leave tonight.” Fareeha explained bluntly, solemnly. “The airships tomorrow morning.” Angela’s fingers tightened around her own and Fareeha frowned, dark eyes dropping to their entwined hands. She sighed before speaking once more. “I’ll be heading out on Raptora at first light.”

 

The silence that stretched between them was filled only by Angela’s stuttering breaths and the piper by the memorial. At the first glimpse of a tear making its way down the priestess’ pale cheek, Fareeha turned and scooped up both of the woman’s hands, bringing them to her lips. 

 

Angela sobbed, her eyes screwing shut as she tried to hold back the emotions clawing at her throat. She would never ask the soldier to stay, to avoid the fight, no matter how much she may have wanted to. It was a losing battle to do so. Fareeha was truly a champion of the Light, a protector that challenged all who would dare hurt those she loved. She was the shield that guarded against the darkness. Stalwart, true and pure of heart. Her hand moved to Fareeha’s plated chest, fingers curling in the tabard draped over the blue steel, the colors and mark of the Silver Hand carried proudly on the paladin’s breast. 

 

But this wouldn’t be helping to liberate enslaved people or protecting evacuating citizens. Angela had seen the Forsaken up close. They were sentient but still a twisted husk of humanity and their leader was no better. The newly appointed Warchief was infamous in her need for immortality. She would do anything to ensure her survival, especially during a siege.  _ It’s suicide. _ At the dark thought, fingers tightened in the fabric as Angela curled forward, silent tears dripping from her chin. 

 

Fareeha tugged at Angela’s hand still held in her own, pulling the blonde forward and into her arms. She dropped a kiss to Angela’s hairline before the priestess tucked under her chin. With a sad sigh, Fareeha rested her cheek against Angela’s windswept hair, rocking her gently until the sobs began to lessen.

 

“I can’t promise to make it back, I couldn’t leave you with a lie.” Fareeha started, her heart breaking as Angela muffled a sob against her chestplate. She tucked a finger beneath Angela’s chin as she leaned back, tipping the blonde’s puffy, tear-streaked face up to her own. Fareeha’s thumbs gently swiped away the tear trails, leaning forward to kiss the blonde’s forehead. “I  _ do _ promise that I will do everything in my power to get back to you.” Another kiss to Angela’s forehead, lips never leaving the skin with her next words. “By the Light, I promise you that.” A barely-there nod was the only indication that Angela had heard her words.

 

They sat together on the bench, Angela finally moving to wrap her arms around Fareeha’s waist as the soldier nearly pulled the woman into her lap. Just as the sun began to set, Fareeha sighed. 

 

“It’s getting late, let’s get you home.” Angela’s arms cinched tighter around Fareeha’s waist. Fareeha hugged Angela close, whispering calming words until the blonde’s arms loosened. “I’ll walk you.”

 

The trip to Angela’s home, a small walk-up in the Mage District, was made in silence. Angela clung to Fareeha’s hand as if the touch alone would keep the woman in Stormwind, keep her from the battlefield, keep her safe. As the pair approached her door, Fareeha pulled Angela’s hand to her lips, kissing the knuckles, dark eyes never leaving tear-filled blue. 

 

“Goodnight, Angela.” Fareeha swept a bit of hair behind Angela’s ear, thumb caressing the smaller woman’s cheek.

 

Angela turned to her door, shoulders hunched in grief as she turned her key in the lock, a shaking hand braced against the rough wood. With a stuttering breath, she pushed open the door but remained unmoving.

 

In a blink, Angela turned, arms wrapping around Fareeha’s neck to tug the taller woman down as their lips connected. A heated kiss, full of love, desperation and sorrow. Pale fingers dug into dark hair, gripping tightly as Fareeha’s hands clutched at the back of Angela’s robes. They broke apart slowly, soft kisses trailed over tear-stained cheeks. 

 

“Stay with me.” Angela asked quietly, eyes closed to both avoid Fareeha’s frown as she refused and to try to hold back the flood of tears that would fall when she did so. The paladin was honorable to a fault, and that included laying with someone out of wed-

 

“Okay.”

 

The response seemed to surprise them both, but Fareeha recovered from her shock first, and took Angela gently by the elbow and led her inside.

 

* * *

 

Fareeha sat atop her mount in full armor on Stormwind’s flight deck. The coolness of the night wrapped around the gathered soldiers of the Silver Hand as they waited for the last of their orders. Her faceplate covered all but her eyes and her cloak was wrapped tightly around her shoulders, too hot for balmy Stormwind but would be greatly needed as they flew over the Alterac Mountains.

 

She yawned, glad that her helmet’s beak-like faceplate hid the action from her fellow paladins as they stood ready to leave. How she’d slept was a mystery. Between the tear-filled and desperate love making, the clinging of limbs and Angela’s nightmares, Fareeha had slept maybe three hours, four at the most. She’d crept from Angela’s home just after midnight to begin her preparations for the flight, but not before spending just a moment gazing at the woman she’d come to love above all others, curled up on her side and clutching the pillow that lay where Fareeha just had.

 

Fareeha clutched the reins of her dread raven, Raptora, as the giant bird shifted beneath her. She gave the beast a soothing pat, fingers scratching between feathers and with an affectionate chirp, Raptora returned the calming gesture, giving Fareeha’s leg a comforting nip.

 

The Highlord approached on his charger, holding a conversation with the flight master. Fareeha shifted her attention to her commander, ready to receive her orders when a chattering screech behind her caused her stomach to clench and her heart to freeze.

 

She turned just in time to see Valkyrie land behind her at the edge of the flight deck, a bundled up Angela on her back.

 

“Angela what are you doing here?” Fareeha hissed, voice nearly cracking with fear as she flipped up her faceplate with a hurried hand. The priestess’ seeker trotted forward, its owl-like face nuzzling against Raptora in greeting. Fareeha reached out and cupped Angela’s jaw as soon as she was within arm’s reach, leaning in the saddle as she drew Angela near so her words would remain between them. “Go. Home.” They were forehead to forehead, and at Angela’s concerned expression, Fareeha’s eyes softened from panic hardened to pleading. 

 

“I’m going with you. I will not let you face them alone.” Angela replied, her voice uneven but determined.

 

A gentle kiss was placed at the corner of Angela’s mouth. “Please go home.” Fareeha’s grip tightened for a moment before relaxing, careful to not hurt the blonde with her steel wrapped hand. “It’s a siege, love. It won’t be an easy victory. I couldn’t bear it if you were killed.”

 

“No more than I could if you were lost.” Angela squeezed the gauntlet at her jaw. “At least let me do what I can to help you.”

 

Fareeha sat in silence, eyes searching crystal blue for any sign of doubt or regret. There was none, only the determination of steel she’d come to love about the priestess. Fareeha sighed, her hand slipping to grip Angela’s cloak, bunching it up around her neck a bit more. “It’ll be cold once we take flight.”

 

* * *

 

By the time Fareeha and Angela touched down in Tirisfal, the small hamlet of Brill had already been decimated by the Alliance forces. Forsaken bodies lay among the rubble and Fareeha gave each one a discerning glare to ensure they were dead. When one was already a reanimated corpse, it was hard to tell.

 

Daylight had yet to break over the horizon and the misty morning air pressed in on the pair as they joined the rest of the army, along with the other soldiers that had flown in. Fareeha was the first to dismount, motioning toward the feed and water troughs set up on the side and sending Raptora on his way. She quickly moved to help Angela down from her mount, easing the blonde onto the ground and bracing her at her elbows until she was steady on her feet.

 

“Sorry,” Angela apologized as she shifted her weight, trying to bring an end to the prickling of her nerves. “I’m not used to flights that long.”

 

Fareeha gave the healer a gentle smile before stepping away. “No apologies needed.” She gave Angela’s hands a final squeeze. “I have to go check in, you should do the same.” And she was gone, off to find the Highlord.

 

* * *

 

Few things truly terrified Fareeha. She could count the times she’d been frozen in terror on less than one hand. She’d stepped onto this battlefield, the rain soaked ground in front of the ruined remains of the once great city of Lordaeron, with only the innard trembling anticipation of war. With Angela at her back, pouring her healing magic into her at every scrape and bump, she felt nearly invincible.

 

That was until Sylvanas Windrunner, banshee queen and Warchief of the Horde, stepped onto the battlements. 

 

Fareeha watched with wide eyes as the massive front gate of Lordaeron opened, spilling out countless members of the Horde. Each of them equipped with a gas mask and far too many with a canister of a vile green substance she’d only heard about from the veterans from the Wrath Gate.

 

_ Blight. _

 

Fareeha’s heart froze in her chest as she fought her body’s instinctual urge to flee. She turned briefly, not to run but to find Angela. The blonde woman stood among the other healers at a safe distance, but not nearly far enough away from the plague-spreading Horde.

 

“Run!” Fareeha cried in the general direction of the healers, but her eyes were locked with Angela’s.  _ Please,  _ she mouthed at the blonde, sorrow in her eyes before she turned away, facing once again toward the approaching Horde. Fareeha took a steadying breath before grabbing her tabard and wrapping it over her nose and mouth, tucking it into her breastplate for a better hold. The blight would rot any flesh to the bone within seconds at just contact. Her armor would protect her for the most part but the thought of breathing it in shook her to her core. The thin cloth now acting as a mask would do little to protect her, but the weight of it against her face was comforting.

 

She raised her shield and stepped forward, toward the Horde and the creeping green bile, shoulders squared and ready to do what needed to be done to ensure the safety of those around her. To protect her people.

 

To protect her love.

 

* * *

 

Angela had one last glimpse of Fareeha through scrambling healers and soldiers alike as they turned to flee the blight. Screams of terror echoed over the field as the Alliance witnessed their dead being reanimated as their enemy. Disgust rippled through Angela as she saw flashes of Horde red armor among the skeletons.

 

The banshee had not only cast blight upon her enemies, but those that fought for her.

 

Angela took a step against the current of panicked soldiers to aide Fareeha when she was grabbed at the wrist by a fellow priestess. 

 

“We have to go!” She said, voice high pitched and laced with fear.

 

Angela didn’t know the woman and later wouldn’t be able to pick her from a crowd. She only cared about getting through the masses to the woman that stood with a scant handful of other brave souls as their only barrier from a torturous death. 

 

Another tug at her wrist and then, “They’re bringing the injured to Brill, they need us. Now isn’t the time to freeze up.”

 

The thought of someone dying because she wasn’t at their side was enough to shake Angela from her despair. Fareeha had faced greater odds, she would be able to retreat back to the camps when the Alliance had done so. She would be fine.

 

Angela turned then and followed the priestess to the camp, ducking into the nearest tent with determination.

 

* * *

 

Hours passed in a flurry of bloody limbs, rotting flesh and hasty amputations. Some time into the hectic triage, a runner had come through the camp with news of a magical flying ship and the breaking of the siege in the Alliance’s favor.

 

The boy’s words were at first assumed to be the result of a head injury until one name passed his lips. “Lady Proudmoore has returned!”

 

Those that were well enough darted toward the tent flaps, eager to see if the runner’s words were true. As the thick canvas was pulled aside, Angela caught a flash of arcane magic high in the sky.

 

A deep sigh of relief crashed from her lungs. If Lady Proudmoore was on the field, Fareeha would be safe.

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t until they were given the order to evacuate that Angela began to truly worry. Fareeha had yet to return to camp, but the priestess knew of the paladin’s need to be the ultimate protector and didn’t expect the woman back until every survivor was pulled from the field. 

 

But once all but one of the triage tents were brought down and most of the patients were moved onto a nearby airship, once the ship had released its tether and began to take off, once it was only her and a handful of healers left on the ground, Angela began to panic. 

 

The others began to scour the edge of the battlefield for survivors, moving those they found onto carts for transport to the ships waiting on the Gilnean shore. Angela remained static, piercing eyes searching for any sign of her Fareeha.

 

* * *

  
  
Angela stood at the railing of the last evacuating airship, hands clasped over her mouth in shock as the central building of Lordaeron was decimated, sickly green clouds billowing out from every window. As the airship gained altitude, Angela cried. Valkyrie stood at her side, owlish eyes closed in mourning as well. Raptora had refused to be brought aboard, instead remained at the edge of Brill stubbornly awaiting his master. 

 

The airborne blight seeped over every inch of the city, leaving nothing untouched. By the time the ship began to move back in the direction of Stormwind, nothing was visible past the clouds of green and even if it were, Angela wouldn’t have known.

 

She had already collapsed onto the deck of the ship, heaving what little was left in her stomach onto the wooden planks.

 

* * *

 

Angela stood at the memorial listening to the King’s speech. It felt like only yesterday that she stood here with Fareeha, the paladin blaming herself for the late King Varian’s death. At the time, Angela couldn’t understand how the knight could blame herself. After all, Fareeha was merely a foot soldier on the other side of the Broken Shore, nowhere near the King. 

 

But as Angela stood among the other grieving citizens, the young King’s words of comfort falling on deaf ears, clutching at the memorial tabard the Highlord had given her with a solemn salute, Angela understood.

 

She should have done more, she should have stayed. Fareeha faced her fears head on to stay and defend the evacuation and what had Angela done? Fled. Sure she’d convinced herself at the time that the injured soldiers in the triage tents needed her more, but after the haze of battle and terror had faded, Angela saw it for what it was. 

 

_Cowardice._

 

Fareeha may have had no reasons to feel guilt about the late King, but Angela was every bit to blame for Fareeha’s demise. She should have stayed, stood at her side to ensure she would have every chance of survival. And yet she turned, abandoned her in her greatest time of need.

 

Even Raptora, a blasted  _ beast _ had stayed behind, his loyalty outweighing Angela’s it would seem.

 

* * *

 

Angela kneeled and prayed, as she had done for the four days since the siege and defeat of Lordaeron. She had been on the last airship out and from her vantage point on the fleeing vessel, she was able to see just what lengths the twisted Warchief was willing to go to in order to win.

 

Every day, she had come to the cathedral, knelt and begged any listening deity that Fareeha  _ somehow _ come home from the devastated city. But with each passing day, every time she’d sprint to the infirmary for news on the returning search parties, with every sad smile and shaking head, her heart broke even more.

 

She stood from her position at the altar, knees protesting the movement after being bent for so long. As she left the cathedral, she gave a half-hearted wave to the two paladins at the door. She kept her eyes to the floor, not ready to see the blue and white Silver Hand tabard on anyone’s chest but Fareeha’s.

“Priestess.” The paladin on the left spoke. “The Highlord has requested your audience.”

 

A handful of words and Angela’s stomach fell to her feet, dread at what those veiled words meant. She nodded slowly, dazed and in shock and let her feet carry her after the paladin as he led the way.

 

* * *

 

Fareeha had been declared dead. 

 

Angela wanted to scream, curse, accuse the Highlord of not doing enough, of not sending enough search parties, for giving up so soon. But nothing more could be done. And, she realized with a start, any of those accusations could be applied to herself as well.   
  
They had spent the better part of the week combing the battlefield to gather remains, survivors and clean up the remaining undead that still milled about. The bodies were still being examined but since Fareeha was not among the survivors, they held no hope that she wasn’t among the dead.

 

“It is likely she was… cursed.” The Highlord spoke but the words did not penetrate Angela’s grieving mind as she stood silently, eyes staring into the middle distance. “She was on the forefront and had first contact with the blight... I am sorry.”

 

It was only then that Angela turned dead eyes to look at the Highlord. “I’m sure.”

 

She left then, eager to get away from the Highlord and his condolences. She nearly sprinted down the front steps of the cathedral, ignoring the two doormen as she went.

 

* * *

 

Pounding at the door startled Angela from her restless sleep. She stood and wrapped a housecloak around her shoulders before making her way to the door. She opened it, not fearing any sort of angry attacker or infiltrator, her despondent attitude over the past week had ensured any amount of emotion was well confined and muted.

 

She looked at the panicked runner with dead eyes, her only wish being that he hurry and deliver whatever urgent message he carried so she could curl back up under her cov-

 

“Knight-Lord Amari was found!” The runner said without any sort of preamble. “I was told to bring you immediately to the infirmary.”

 

Angela stood for a moment more, barely registering the words the young boy spoke. It was only when she found herself on the floor as the result of weak knees that she broke from her stupor. The young boy grabbed at her arm, trying his best to heave her from the floor and finally, after many pleas for her to hurry, Angela stood.

 

She sprinted toward the infirmary, her door left open in her haste. The streets were deathly quiet this time of night and she tried her best to not feel it was an omen of what she was about to see.

 

She slowed to a stop at the door, her breath catching in her throat as she tried to calm herself from both the run and the emotions she was nowhere near prepared for. She pushed open the door, the distant patter of the runner’s steps syncing with her heartbeat as it nearly burst from her chest.

 

Fareeha lay on a cot near the window. Had it not been for the crumpled falcon helmet at her bedside, Angela wouldn’t have recognized her through the bandages and poultices covering every inch of her body.

 

Angela slowly sank onto a nearby bench, close enough to take in the detail of Fareeha’s ash-gray skin beneath the bruising, the labored way her chest struggled to rise, the odd way the blankets lay over the mounds of bandages. But not near enough to touch. 

 

To touch would risk that this was a dream, that Fareeha wasn’t here, that she hadn’t been found. To touch would mean Angela would be able to feel the swelling, the stitches and the splints, all a result of her own cowardice.

 

“Priestess Ziegler.” A woman at her back began, but when Angela made no move to respond, the nurse sighed quietly and bowed before exiting.

 

Angela sat for minutes or hours, simply staring at the swirl of dark ink on Fareeha’s cheek before finally gaining the strength to reach out and trail shaking fingertips over clammy skin.

 

It wasn’t a mirage, Fareeha was here and alive. Angela broke down, her body crumpling forward as she wept, fingers clutching at the bedsheets as she wailed words of thanks to the Light, the goddess Elune, even Azeroth herself. 

 

* * *

 

Angela had refused to leave Fareeha’s bedside other than to relieve herself and maintain some form of hygiene. The nurses would bring a filling stew during their rounds, but the twist of worry in the blonde’s stomach kept her from eating much of it.

 

She had done as much as she could, despite the nurses’ assurances that Fareeha was healing despite her not regaining consciousness. Angela had spent countless hours pouring her healing magic into the broken soldier until her fingertips began to burn from channeling the energies. But, even after all of her work, she had to begrudgingly agree with the nurses. There was nothing more she could do, the rest was up to Fareeha. So, Angela waited.

 

She sat, heels braced against the seat of her chair, arms wrapped around her knees, and waited. She watched, chin braced on her knee, eyes locked on limp fingers, for any sign of movement. She prayed, eyes falling closed above her quivering chin, a sob shuddering through her chest, for Fareeha to wake.

 

* * *

 

A loud commotion at her side startled Angela from her restless sleep. She cracked open tired eyes but her view of the prone soldier was blocked by a nurse. Four ladies stood around Fareeha’s bed, high pitched and excited voices sounding like chickens to Angela’s sleep-clouded ears.

 

“Priestess!” One of them exclaimed as she saw Angela begin to stir. “Please, come here. She’s responding.”

 

Angela had never been on her feet faster and her curled up position did nothing to make the transition easier. She wobbled forward on pin-filled feet and grabbed on to the nurse that had spoken, giving her a thankful smile while she gathered her balance. Blue eyes shifted over to Fareeha.

 

The paladin met her gaze, bleary but very much alive. Angela all but shoved the nurse away as she rushed to Fareeha’s side, grabbing up her hand as she fell to her knees next to the bed.

 

* * *

 

Angela stood at the foot of the bed she now shared with Fareeha, using the surface to sort and fold the laundry she’d just brought in off the line. Weeks had passed since the woman had been cleared to leave the infirmary and the women had decided that it would make the most sense for Fareeha to move in.

 

While Angela’s home was small it was their only choice as Fareeha had made the barracks her residence since the trek through the Dark Portal years prior. The space was made even smaller as Fareeha’s meager belongings were moved in and smaller yet by the railings and equipment provided by the Gnomes from Old Town to help her move about.

 

Angela scowled as she folded a pair of breeches with just a bit more force than was necessary, the thought of the struggles the woman now faced weighing on her mind.

 

When Fareeha had first returned to consciousness, it was brief. They were able to share a few tear filled smiles and words of love before Fareeha slipped back into sleep, her body desperately needing rest to recover from her traumatic injuries.

 

Raptora had brought her back, the Highlord had said as he talked with Angela a few days after Fareeha had returned. The giant raven had dragged her from the field and into the saddle before making the long flight back to Stormwind. Raptora had received injuries as well, a few raw patches of skin and a good portion of his tail feathers, but none so severe as Fareeha’s. If Fareeha and Raptora didn’t share such a bond, if the beast wasn’t intelligent, if Fareeha had been half a meter in another direction, she would have lost more than her-

 

“Angela, they’re here!” Fareeha’s call from the front room of Angela’s small home was filled with excitement.

 

The blonde shook herself from her darkening thoughts and quickly finished folding the last of the laundry before rushing to the door. Fareeha sat in her chair by the window eagerly, leaning as far as she safely could to see the visitors as they stood on the stoop.

 

Outside stood a pair of engineers given the task of creating prosthetics to replace the limbs lost during the battle. Angela let them in with a smile and stood back as the dwarf and gnome placed a large case on the table.

 

As they presented Fareeha with her newly crafted leg and arm, Angela stood aside, smiling with tears in her eyes. She nearly barked out a peal of laughter as the paladin made a quip about the price she paid for the robotic limbs.  


  
_ After all _ , Angela mused after the moment of mirth had passed, her eyes softening as she watched Fareeha flex her new finger joints.  _ Since when did Fareeha ever let anything hold her back? _


End file.
